


Everyone Thinks They're Such Sweet Little Things

by KuriNCIS (KuriKoer)



Series: Wake Up Call [12]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Ducky is a bit of a bitch, Other, Teasing, suggestive conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriNCIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ducky tells stories. Palmer wasn't listening, and so he missed something important. An interlude in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone Thinks They're Such Sweet Little Things

It could just be his imagination, Palmer thinks. He could be misreading the signals. But he knows Dr. Mallard, and he knows the subtle difference between the expression that says he's overstepped the line and said something he shouldn't have to make the doctor angry, and the similar, but not quite identical, expression that says he's overstepped the line and said something he shouldn't have and made the doctor amused.

It's something in the eyes, and in the corner of the mouth. He's spent a lot of time lately gazing at Dr. Mallard's eyes and his mouth. Here, this is where the little quirk disappears, where it turns from tolerant to impatient, right there.

"Are you listening to me, Mr. Palmer?"

"I'll get the gurney," he blurts without thought.

Ducky sighs. "You already brought it. You're leaning on it. Honestly, sometimes I think you've stopped paying attention altogether. It's like working with some kind of an automaton... Do you know, the word, as well as the concept and the machination itself, came from the Latin, or really, the Greek..."

There, he's in a better mood now, Palmer thinks. Goes on about some toy he had when he was young, while wrapping the body in plastic, making sure the position of the broken elbow doesn't shift too much when shutting the bag. Palmer hefts the dead man on the gurney, straps him in, and starts the long journey down three flights of stairs, assisted by an agent. Behind him, Ducky says something about...

"I'm sorry, what, Dr. Mallard?", Palmer hopes his voice isn't the squeak he thinks it is. He can't have misheard; a few steps down from him, the agent carrying the other side of the gurney looks like he bit into a lemon.

"A hydraulic mechanism, pistoning back and forth on its own accord," Ducky says. Palmer glances back to see him accompanying his explanation with a distinct, unmistakable hand movement. "Thrusting tirelessly. A brilliant machine, I thought, although somewhat impersonal."

Palmer stares ahead, trying not to fall down the stairs, dead body and all. The man in front has white knuckles clutching the gurney, and the line of his shoulders suggests he's either holding back laughter, or is thoroughly shocked and disgusted.

Palmer himself is trying to plunder his memory and find what, exactly, Ducky was talking about before he brought up the fucking machine, and why he was in a room with one. Before he knows it, they're out of the building. He thanks the other agent, who mumbles 'de nada' and disappears in a hurry, and then hauls the gurney with its cargo into the van. By then, Ducky is cheerfully rambling about children's toys again, specifically about Bavarian ones created from the 17th to the 19th century.

"Duck?", Gibbs marches their way, quirking an eyebrow at the doctor's chatter and his choice of topic. "Clockwork dolls have anything to do with the murder?"

"We're not yet sure it was a murder, Jethro," Ducky hazards.

"It was," Gibbs says evenly.

"Well, either way," Ducky says, "it had nothing to do with the antique toys we were discussing. I was merely having a lively conversation with Mr. Palmer... What brought this on, I couldn't possibly remember?"

The glance he gives Palmer is not at all befuddled; it's rather sharp and cunning. Palmer forces a smile to his face.

"I can't remember either, doctor," he squeezes out, shutting the vehicle doors and heading around it to the driver's side. Gibbs is standing near the van; Palmer could walk around, or try and squeeze between him and the metal. After a moment's hesitation, he pushes through, brushing against Gibbs' side. Gibbs doesn't step away, but lets him rub his shoulder against his arm. Palmer makes it into the van and then takes a few deep breaths, hands on the wheel and back taut against the seat. He has to wait a long, torturous eternity before Ducky climbs into the passenger seat.

"All ready to go, Mr. Palmer?", he asks cheerfully.

"Yes, Dr. Mallard," Palmer says, defeated, and risks a glance as he turns the key in the ignition. Small quirk of the mouth. Maybe he's not angry, but if he's pleased with something, Palmer can't for the life of him figure out what it is.

"Eyes on the road, please, Mr. Palmer," Ducky says, a bit more stern than his little smirk allows.

"Yes, Dr. Mallard," Palmer sighs, pulling out of the driveway, trying hard to put away from his mind the clear memory of Ducky's voice saying, _again, and again, and again, and again._

**Author's Note:**

> Title note: [March of the Sinister Ducks](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFK2Xq2RyiU)


End file.
